Just Like Me
by whitetiger91
Summary: "Myrtle gritted her teeth. How dare someone slam the door to her bathroom? Did they not realise she wanted some peace and quiet?" Bad summary, bad story, ah well XD


**Just Like Me**

 _ **A/N: This really crappy story was inspired by the Quidditch League Fanfiction Forum, Round 10. Everyone was given a ghost or portrait to write about, and the Seeker was given Moaning Myrtle. Anywho, this is a very lame and stupid attempt on my part... but who knows? Maybe someone will enjoy it. Maybe... :)**_

* * *

 _ **September 27, 1994**_

 _Bang!_

Myrtle gritted her teeth. How dare someone slam the door to her bathroom? Did they not realise she wanted some peace and quiet? Of course, it was probably yet another student coming in to make fun of her. Well, she would give them a piece of her mind. Flying out of her favourite toilet, she pushed her head through the stall door.

"Do you min—"

The reprimand died on her lips, however, as she realised it was a young girl in the bathroom. Not just any girl; a brunette with shoulder-length hair, the strands clinging to her chin by the girl's tears. A girl that, apart from the unpleasant looking face she had, was exactly like Myrtle. Sad, alone, unappreciated…

The perfect friend.

Gliding over to where the girl was standing in front of the mirror, tears still running down her cheeks and sobs wracking her body, she asked, "What's wrong?"

The girl jumped and pressed her hand to her chest. "Merlin's beard!"

Myrtle giggled, the familiar rush of scaring people flowing through her body. The girl's brown eyes were wide, and she could see from the way the girl had to take a few deep breaths that she still had it in her. Oh what fun!

The girl spun around, brown eyes now narrowed. "Oh, it's you, Moaning Myrtle. Why don't you go bother someone else?"

If it had been anyone else, Myrtle would have screeched at them for speaking in such a tone. She happened to appreciate this girl's sassiness—so much like her own—and, instead, smiled. "This happens to be _my_ bathroom. I'll let you stay though, if you just tell me what's wrong?"

The girl spun around to face the mirror once more. Turning on the sink's tap, only to get frustrated it didn't work and move to the next basin, she splashed her face with water. Myrtle rolled her eyes, moving to float next to her, watching as she tried to make her face appear less splotchy and red.

"Oh dear, you might need some more water," Myrtle said.

The girl continued splashing her face, before giving up and turning off the tap. Wiping the water away with the back of her sleeve robes, she turned another glare at Myrtle.

Jeesh, what was with that? She was only trying to give her new friend some advice.

"What is wrong, is that I'm being bothered by a-a-a sad, lonely little ghosts!" the girl said, her eyes blazing.

Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the bathroom, sniffing along the way. Myrtle, still unsure what had happened, watched as her new friend—or at least, the person she thought would be her new friend—disappeared through the door.

* * *

 _ **December 24, 1994**_

 _Bang!_

The slamming of the bathroom door cut into Myrtle's thoughts. She had been just about to drift off to sleep—well, what she liked to pretend was sleep, and instead was just really her floating around absentmindedly—when she was disturbed. Rubbing her hands over her eyes, she flew up to the top of the stall door.

Standing at the sink, this time clad in frilly, pink dress robes, the brunette from months ago stood by the sinks. Instead of peering into the mirror, she leant up against the porcelain sink, the tears running freely down her cheeks. Tracks of mascara ran with them, as did little trails of pink glitter from the girl's eyeshadow. Brown hair that had been wound up in an intricate style now fell about the girl's face in frizzy curls.

What was with this girl and crying? Myrtle had never known someone to cry so much—she knew it was healthy to get rid of emotions, but this much? Talk about being a drama queen.

Still, Myrtle supposed the least she could do was help the girl out; to show her how to be social, guide her on the right path, that sort of thing.

"What's wrong this time?" she asked, moving towards the girl.

"Oh, not you again! Why don't you go away?" the girl cried, wiping away the moisture.

Myrtle rolled her eyes and folded her own arms. Merlin, some people could be so stubborn. "I will when you tell me what's wrong," she said, looking pointedly at her.

If looks could kill—and Myrtle knew they could—she would be dead...again. The girl held her head higher, one fist clenched by her side. Walking over to the bathroom door, she held up her other hand, the middle finger of which was aimed towards Myrtle.

"Charming." Still, she couldn't let her friend get away from her that quickly.

Zooming over to the door, Myrtle blocked the girl's exit. The girl could've easily walked through her, of course, but something about the girl's attitude towards her made Myrtle think that wouldn't be likely.

"Go on, you can tell me your problems," she said.

The girl sniffed, tapping a heel against the tiled, and as usual, wet floor. "Move out of the way."

"Are you crying because your dress is ugly?"

The girl glanced down at her robes, before looking up and shaking her head. "Wha—no, they're perfect, as usual. Now move."

"Is someone bullying you? Oh, I know how cruel girls can be…" Myrtle continued, allowing her voice to waver and closing her eyes.

Girls were absolutely awful to her, all the time. Her, Myrtle, one of the prettiest and nicest ghosts in the castle. They never appreciated her, never realised how lucky they were to know her. It just wasn't fair! _It wasn't fair!_

"Would you stop that wailing?"

Opening her eyes, Myrtle saw the girl staring at her, pale hands clapped over her ears. It took a moment for her to realise she had been wailing, let alone that she had floated to the roof. Giggling, a little embarrassed but more amused at how comical the girl looked with her hands help, she allowed herself to float back to the door.

"Oopsie."

The brunette rolled her eyes and brought her hands down. "Finally."

"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Myrtle asked again, only for the girl to huff. "Is it… boys? Yes! I knew it, it is boys!"

The girl blinked. "N-no."

"Oh yes it is! I can see it in your eyes! Oh ho, of course I'm right! It is about boys!" Myrtle circled around the small bathroom, performing a few somersaults and clapping her hands. Yes, she knew would get down to the problem; after all, she was rather intelligent.

"Ugh, fine, you were right. Will you shut up already?" the girl walked over to the skin, just as she had months before.

Myrtle giggled again and zoomed down to the girl. Lying over several basins, she propped her head upon her elbows and kicked her legs behind her. "Of course."

The girl sniffed, staring into the mirror. A shaking hand went to her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. "He doesn't love me, you know?"

"Who?"

Shaking her head, the brunette ignored her question. "Never has, probably never will. He only tolerates me because of our parents, pushing us together. If we hadn't been sorted into the same house, he wouldn't have looked twice at me."

Myrtle tilted her head, surveying the girl. Even with makeup, her looks hadn't quite improved, but she wasn't _that_ bad looking. Still, apart from a few misplaced comments about her glasses made by one, dreadful Olive Hornby, Myrtle had never had to worry about her looks, let alone boy troubles. Tom, Severus, Percy, Cedric, Harry—the boys had all come to her for advice and attention, never wanting to leave her company. She couldn't imagine how the girl must've felt.

Reaching forward, she tried to rub the girl's back. Unfortunately, her hand went through her shoulder, making both her and the girl jump.

"Merlin! What do you think you're doing?" the girl shouted, leaping out of Myrtle's reach. Then, blinking as though she realised what she had been saying, she narrowed her eyes. "Don't touch me, ever. We're not friends!"

Myrtle sprung up from her spot, realising that the girl was walking towards the door. She was too late, however, for the girl had already pushed her way through it, causing it to swing back on it's hinge.

Yet again, it seemed she had lost her friend. Her body suddenly felt heavy, and, with a loud cry to emphasise the despair she was going through (and one she secretly hoped would bring the girl back) she flew back into her stall and dived into the toilet.

* * *

 _ **March 16, 1998**_

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Screaming at the top of her lungs, Myrtle wooshed around the bathroom. She made sure each tap twisted to its full capacity, spurting out streams of water. They filled the porcelain sinks, rushing out at the same speed as her tears.

Her boyfriend had left her! He had actually left her! Oh, why had he gone? He had promised to return to her, to not leave because of the war. But he had, oh he had! Why her?

"Flush! Flush my pretties!" Myrtle flew past the toilets, unable to cackle when they complied with her wishes and water splashed over the rims and onto the floor.

She would flood the bathroom, yes, that would help. If she couldn't punish her beau, then she would make those people who had caused him to leave to clean up the mess.

"What's going on in here?" a voice interrupted as she dove out of a toilet, half the contents of which pouring onto the floor.

Turning to the owner of the voice—the icky new Muggle Studies professor, or whatever the subject was called now—Myrtle opened her voice and let her emotions pour out. She flew down at the witch, passing as close as she dared.

"I command you! Stop this at once!" the witch swiped at her, only to shriek when her hands passed through empty air.

"I cannot! My heart is broken!"

"I mean it!"

"No! No, no, no, no, no!"

How dare this woman try to make her stop? Had she never had her heart broken? No, she was one of _them_ ; the people who had made her boyfriend so upset in the first place! She should be the one to clean up her mess.

The witch stomped her foot, causing toilet water to splash up onto the hem of her robes. When Myrtle ignored her, she stomped it again, clenching her fists by her side. The sneer on her face grew as she realised her robes were becoming dirty, and she shouted up at her, "I'm warning you!"

Myrtle stuck her tongue out at her, an idea forming in her head. Her pearly eyes had spotted a large puddle pooling just behind the witch.

Before she could realise what she was staring at, Myrtle flew at the Carrow woman, passing through her and passing through the puddle. It was uncomfortable having the woman take up her body for a second, followed immediately by the solid concrete and pipes underneath the floor tiles, but it was worth it. Poking her head back up through the floor, she saw the woman shaking the water off, her face a ghastly shade of red.

"Right! I'll be back, don't you think I won't!" she screeched, leaving the room.

When she was gone, Myrtle floated back up and sighed. There, that would do it; now she could wallow in her misery alone.

Or so she thought.

The bathroom door creaked open once more, and Myrtle prepared to let out another scream. If it wasn't her beau coming through that door to apologise to her, to tell her he had come back for her, then she would flood the entire castle!

"Oh, it's just you," the intruder said.

Myrtle blinked, mouth still open, recognising the voice. Shutting her mouth, she turned away from the girl, not caring that the girl was trembling. Her so-called friend had not visited her for over three years.

"What, you're not going to pester me to get out?" the girl asked, leaning against the stone wall.

Myrtle sniffed, folding her arms. "Why should I care? You never answer me."

The girl only chuckled in response. For some reason, it irked her, and Myrtle turned around. The girl wasn't watching her, staring at the opposite wall instead. It appeared as though her brown eyes were unfocused, unseeing. Though they were now dry, Myrtle could see the remains of tears drying upon her cheeks.

No, she would not give in. The girl wasn't her friend, who cared what was wrong with her? Heck, she didn't even know the girl's name! Whatever was wrong with her probably wasn't that interesting…

"Well? What is wrong? Boys again?"

Another chuckled escaped the girls lips, though Myrtle could hear the bitterness within. "Oh no, unless you count the victim."

"Victim?"

"The one I—the one I had to torture. Little thing, first year I think."

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't want to end up like you."

Myrtle nodded, the comment passing through her heart like everything else did. If the girl had said there was nothing wrong with being a ghost, then she would be offended. But she hadn't; the girl had told the truth.

"I see."

The girl nodded, more to herself than at Myrtle. Then, without warning, her face contorted into an enraged mess, and she kicked the wall. "Damnit! Damnit, damnit, damnit!"

She watched the girl swear over and over again, hands curled into fists as she thrashed about. The girl began to jump up and down. Unlike the Carrow woman, she didn't seem to care that her robes were becoming saturated, or that her shoes were ruined. In fact, Myrtle was sure that if she splashed her with the puddle water, she girl wouldn't even care.

What was even more strange was that, for the first time, Myrtle no longer cared that her boyfriend had left her. She didn't feel like wailing about him, or telling the girl that her own problems were worse. Because… somehow… they weren't. She could always get another beau, couldn't she?

Hovering in front of the girl, though not making the same mistake of patting her shoulder as she once had, Myrtle asked, "Would you like to blow up some toilets?"

"Fu—What?" the girl stopped mid-swear, staring at her.

Myrtle rolled her eyes, forgetting how slow humans could be, and repeated, "Do you want to blow up some toilets? I find it always helps me."

Without waiting for her response, Myrtle flew up with a squeal before diving down into the nearest toilet bowl. With a splash, she exterted as much energy as was necessary to send the plastic seat flying off its hinges.

Cackling, she flew out of the next toilet, causing the same damage to that toilet seat.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked, dancing around as droplets of toilet water rained down.

The brunette grimaced at the water, stepping out of the way. When the last droplets had fallen, however, her mouth turned up into a smile, and she ran towards a toilet stall. Myrtle watched as the girl gripped the seat and tried to yank it off, and when that didn't work, she yanked down on the chain, flushing the toilet.

Well… it was a start…

Myrtle dove into the next toilet, showing the girl once again how it was done. When she had managed to overflow the toilet bowl, however, she saw that the girl hadn't been watching. Instead, the brunette was standing over the same toilet, now stuffed with would appeared to be an entire roll of toilet paper. She was trying to flush it down, giggling when the toilet gurgled and the water began to bubble.

It wasn't the best method, but it would do. As long as she didn't have to pass through that particular toilet's pipes—toilet paper being very uncomfortable to travel through, often making her throat feel like it was clogged—it didn't matter.

What felt like hours, but was more likely only twenty minutes or so, soon passed. The bathroom floor was covered in both water and toilet paper, as were the sinks. Myrtle began to somersault around the room, still pent up with excitement. She only stopped when she saw that the girl was once more lying against the bathroom wall, her eyes closed and chest heaving up and down.

"Wasn't that fun?" Myrtle asked, a giggle escaping her lips.

The other girl nodded, opening her eyes. It took her another moment to straighten her posture, amd Myrtle watched as she used her wand to perform a drying spell on her uniform. Without another word, she then walked to the door.

Before leaving, however, she turned and said, "See you around, Myrtle."

"Oh, yes, see you later, erm—"

"Pansy. I'm Pansy."

As the door closed behind the girl, Myrtle shot up into the air, a squeal of delight reverberating around the walls.

She had a friend! Oh yes, she definitely had a friend!


End file.
